Happy House
by Haus
Summary: No matter how hard he tries, Connor ends up being trapped by his brain and ruined by his face. Dubcon. Gross.


It wasn't unlike the sensation of dreaming.

He was simply aware that he was here, now, everything blurry and behind a grey initialization screen overlay displaying the progress of his reboot. Hazy forms milled around, slowly refining their shapes until Connor was able to gradually discern unique features in the human faces around him. There were signs, shelves, a front door, windows.

He was in a store. People standing subtly apart from the other small couples and individuals who seemed to inspect them. As Connor's eyes lowered, he realized that a female child was gazing up at him with wide and curious eyes before running back to her parents at the other side of the store after he'd established and held eye contact with her for too long. He wasn't challenging, simply mirroring her inquisitiveness.

He can't recall anything before this moment, really. Neither why he's here or how. And somehow... nothing about that sentiment bothers Connor– he knows he's an android.

All around him are brightly colored advertisements with prices and model names, conveniently placed on sections of wall coinciding with the androids on display.

He looks down, sees AX400 printed on the front of his dark grey jacket. He can't seem to move, locked standing in a way that prevented him for checking what any of the signs behind or directly above him said. But, briefly scanning the room as much as he could with only the most minimal turn of his neck that he could manage, he noticed that this wasn't the flagship CyberLife shop by any means. Every android here was on sale: marked down or part of some financeable promotion.

Various models were being introduced by sales reps with friendly, confident voices. Though no one had been tasked with introducing Connor's basic stats and capabilities because none of the prospective customers have wandered to his small designated area yet. Connor caught the eye of the little girl from before again, though her parents pay him no mind, instead rather taken by a catching PL600, her brunette hair twisted in a glossy bun at the nape of her pale neck.

Connor looked down at his shoes, the subtle noise of fluorescent lights filling his ears. It appears that he was just now put on display, and none of the customers that were in the store when he had "awakened" felt the need to check him out since they were already busy learning about the other available models that they had probably entered the store already intending on buying. He's not bored, just waiting– passively listening to the two active conversations in the shop in the meanwhile.

He's reading a small-fonted advert all the way across the store on the left wall when he hears the front door open with a small, automated chime. Busy audial snapshot of the word outside: cars on the street, dog paws hitting the sidewalk, the feminine and emotionless warning of a crosswalk podium half a block away. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary for the Detroit metro area at 3:24pm.

Connor's gaze redirects briefly to the right in order to catch a glimpse of this new prospective customer, and sees a heavyset man with long hair lingering by the front desk for a sales rep just returning from his break in the backroom. The man's eyes flit around distractedly, skipping from model to model, barely even stopping to read any of the ads, before stopping to peer over at the far end of the store where Connor was displayed. The android turned his face away before their eyes met, not pausing to analyze exactly why he did so, and continued to scan the poster from where he had left off.

From the muted pieces of conversation he picked up, the man was here to pick up an android for repairs...so another transaction that didn't concern him.

It didn't take long for Connor to finish the remainder of what he was reading, and then the entirety of the bulletin beside it in less than a minute. By this point, the rest of the store had been fully dissected and mentally catalogued already, and there aren't many visual options to choose from with his neck more or less fixed into its single position.

Softened through distance, Connor hears a new voice, low and gruff say, "Wait a second."

Defaulting to check the front for the second time, he notices that the man from before isn't waiting by the desk anymore, but starting to meander through the shop's meager wares.

Connor notes the sallow tinge to his skin, and even at this distance he can tell how clammy with sweat it is for no readily discernible reason.

From the unkempt and limp hair, to the double chin and unattended stubble– it's not Connor's place to judge humans in such a way, but...there's no way around the fact that this man is objectively unappealing to look at. There was no bias necessary because androids had none in this regard; it was a purely dispassionate assessment based on vague numerics and unattached to any further opinions.

Or at least, that was how it was supposed to be. Because as the man drew nearer and nearer, almost making a beeline through the shop until Connor is forced to perceive it as obviously that, when the array of options of interest gradually par down as the man passes them.

Connor, of course, has no heart, but for some reason the compression felt inside his chest is heavy and undeniable. A feeling he imagines to be not unlike a stomach dropping, that only grows with each step closer the man takes.

Their eyes meet.

Worn shoes firmly plant themselves directly in front of him, signaling the end of their short journey. The sales representative by the man's side glances up from him over to Connor in thinly veiled surprise, not quite understanding why this model had become the object of the customer's specific attention.

Unbidden, a smile forces its shape onto Connor's mouth, stretching it into the picture of open friendliness as his software is signaled to conduct preparatory welcoming behavior.

"So," the man starts, "this is the same model as the one I brought in last week?" His eyes are somewhat bloodshot and so dark that their natural blue seems muddied and colorless. He absentmindedly scratches his arm as he turns to the rep.

"Yeah, we just put it on the floor right before you came in. Pre-owned AX400 in surprisingly excellent condition actually." The employee– Connor peeks downwards for a fraction of a second at the shiny name tag– Tim, responds without missing a beat.

Connor keeps smiling faintly despite the strange displeasure of this encounter.

The middle-aged man gives him a once-over, eyes raking from the android's uniquely beautiful face (even for a synthetic), all the way down his lean body and strong legs. "Pre-owned, for that price? Bit expensive isn't it?"

The bad feeling spikes after noticing a few of the other customers in the small store glimpsing over at him. At the man in dingy, stained clothing appraising him, grilling the rep about how well he can cook and clean.

There's no way that Connor could be embarrassed in this situation, or that the invisible buzzing sensation in his face could be shame; his software wouldn't support such superfluous reactions. His LED was still a calm, bright blue.

Connor's eyes followed a woman near the front of the store staring at him before subtly leaning over to whisper to her friend. He felt like he should be able to pick up her words, as hushed as they were, but he was only able to discern the last part, slightly raised in volume from incredulity:

 _"Seriously, what the hell is that? Gross..."_

A single segment of his LED ring flickered yellow. Virtually unnoticeable to anyone else, but Connor felt the telltale whirr in his brain before it quickly cooled down again.

No need to hear the entirety of it word for word. Another head turned over to gawk at the handsome male android being looked over by some homely, overweight, and almost definitely unemployed grown man as a personal domestic bot.

"Yeah, I'll take this one instead," the man finally conceded, his expression a cross between indifferent and irritated.

...

"Since your previous android is still being repaired, we're going to deduct the cost of its parts towards your purchase today. Seems to cover most of it."

The customer grunts, barely sparing Connor even a glance now– though the android's expression is just as blankly pleasant as ever. His software's behavioral directives are all encompassing. Any conflicting sensations, which should not and would not exist, are so much farther away from him.

The two establish all the minutia of the arrangement right in front of him, more or less ignoring him completely at this point, but that's not something that feels particularly wrong or out of the ordinary.

Connor tries to complete a face scan and gets this new man's name and basic information. Confirms his unemployment, but can't look up anything else. The option was there...but it seemed as if he was locked out of some sort of network?

"Alright then, you can go ahead and register your name," Tim says, preparing the last leg of paperwork on his company tablet and already eyeing one of the new patrons by the door.

The man, who Connor now knows is named Todd, frowns and waves his arm dismissively. Everything he did gave the air of distraction.

"I don't know..." he mumbles, hurried. "What was his name before?"

And now it's time for the clerk's turn to frown as he pulls up a new window on his tablet and starts paging to the left and right with his index and middle fingers.

"Connor." The name leaves his own lips easy and involuntary; it takes him a stilted second to grasp that he's said it.

He smiles with perfectly constructed warmth. Subtle enough for the expression to seem genuine.

The clerk does a little shrug and gives Todd an affirmative nod. Todd gives no reaction, but Connor can see the slightest narrowing of his eyes. See how the corner of his thin mouth tightens.

The android draws a blank as to whether the reaction is to him speaking, his smile, or something else entirely.

"Alright," Todd mutters. "Connor."

He repeats his name back to Todd, officially reregistering it. Then, with little fanfare, Todd turns on his heel and heads out to his slate colored truck, makes his way to where he parked on the curb as Connor trails behind him obediently. Todd gets into the driver's seat and shuts the car door with a loud thunk. As soon as Connor joins beside him in the passenger seat and fastens his seatbelt with a final clip, the car is put into drive and begins the journey to Connor's new home.

It's maybe ten minutes in the car to there, spent in complete silence. Todd's attention rarely strays from the road– while Connor neutrally takes in the scenery outside his passenger-side window. Can't help but notice the gradual transition from the metropolitan downtown area to the outskirts of Detroit, into what was irrefutably near eminent domain, judging by the highway construction and heavy presence of cranes and bulldozers.

Their truck pulls up in front of a white, rundown house on the corner, and parks halfway onto the sidewalk. Todd wastes no time in exiting the vehicle to unlock the front door of his home, and Connor has no choice but to linger along after him.

Despite all of the residences still here, the neighborhood seemed rather vacant. Connor spies a 'for sale' sign pitched informally in the yard of the house next door.

A car alarm sounded faintly from a few streets over...

"You coming?"

Connor quickly turns back towards Todd, mouth slightly agape and nods. The larger man holds the door open for Connor to cross through before entering himself and locking up promptly behind them.

The android stood in front of the living room stairs with his arms relaxed at his sides, awaiting Todd's directive. Waiting for him to tell him what to do now.

The first of many times.

Putting his hands on his hips, Todd's posture eases as he turns to face Connor. The difference from the store is apparent, now more than inclined to meet Connor's wide-eyed, receptive gaze. His new possession.

Connor was struck at the strange sharpness of the man's features despite the roundness of his face. His eyes and nose were almost hawkish. And the harsh edge in his stare would have been completely unnerving to any living, breathing human being.

"House is a mess since my last android broke in an accident last week, so you'll be in charge of making sure everything gets cleaned and stays clean from now on." He gestures vaguely around. Scratches his arm.

Connor's software is already processing the clutter all over– from the empty take out boxes on the kitchen counter, to the dirt and grime on the floors, to the overflowing dishes in the sink, to the beer bottles. The coffee table was completely littered with them, a couple empty bottle laid sideways even on the couch.

Connor's to-do list superimposed itself into his field of vision, organized by priority and proximity.

"Besides that, cooking. And," Todd's dark eyes rake over the mess, looking for something. He muttered under his breath. "...where'd she run off to? A-"

He stops mid sentence when his gaze hovers on the stairs again. But this time...

"Alice, there you are." He sniffs and points over to home's newest addition. "This is Connor, he's going to be watching over you now." For some reason, Connor thinks something about his tone seems challenging.

Todd's attention returns to Connor, addressing him. "My kid. Alice. Feed her, bath her, and make sure she's in bed by ten every night. You should know what to do," he finishes and gives Connor an expectant look.

"Yes, Todd." That's all he's able to say to that, to which Todd seems perfectly satisfied with.

He's about to personally introduce himself to the little girl, try to familiarize himself to her and maybe make her feel more comfortable about his arrival, but she whips away from him abruptly and ambles up the stairs. Leaving Connor uneasy and confused.

He made a mental note that befriending Alice would also be one of his ongoing tasks.

With a grunt, the man walks over to the sofa, sits, and turns on the tv with a couple clicks of the nearby remote. A hockey match comes on, filling the humble space with as much noise and life as it probably gets.

After a moment of standing in confusion, Connor realizes this is his cue to begin.

So, he moves quietly. Following the objectives only he can see, Connor crosses over to the far end of the room, near the kitchen and back door, to turn on the vacuum. With a soft start up noise, it turns on and begins jittering around the floor.

The android grabs a garbage bag and starts collecting all the trash lying around. Then brings in the laundry from outside to rewash.

When he circles back around to get started on the dishes, Todd barks at him from the couch.

"Hey, get me a beer!"

...

"Yes, Todd." Connor puts the washcloth down and makes his way over to the refrigerator. Opens it. It didn't take much searching. There was barely anything else in there.

Police sirens speed by out on the street. It's getting darker outside.

He brings Todd the beer, smiling as he holds it out to him. Todd looks over to Connor for a second, squinting at being forced to tear himself away from the game.

"Just put it on the table." He doesn't just sound annoyed, but pissed.

Connor's smile falters, corners of his mouth slipping downwards. But he does what he says without delay and regains his pleasant expression just in case Todd decides to look over again.

Connor resumes the task at hand with the dishes and tries to make little noise while doing so– the volume of the faucet is his upper limit. Some of the food still left on the ceramic is old and tough, and Connor adapts to using a bit more effort in his work.

He peers outside. It seemed as if the highway construction never stopped, or when it did, some other project was underway. Looked like some urban development program from the billboard.

Muffled chime from the bus stop at the other end of the street. His eyes stray to the right.

Todd is holding a pipe up, ignites the end with a cheap lighter, and inhales. Exhales a bright and swirling cloud of red.

Connor was trying to be quiet, but he didn't think he was being that quiet. Was he meant to see this?

He quickly returns his attention to cleaning just as Todd spares a glance his way.

"If you're done, head upstairs," he instructs, sniffing loudly. The blue of his eyes stark now that they were bloodshot. So, Connor stepped silently up the stairs. Connor made a note to check on what that was later.

Made short work of Todd's bedroom, organized all the sports magazines and made his bed, avoided looking at the pills for now, and then made his way to Alice's. The second floor of the house only held a few rooms off of its hallway, so hers wasn't particularly hard to find at all. He gently knocked against the door twice, before opening enough to duck his head inside.

She was inside, of course. Nestled in a truly beautiful and intricate self-made fort. Even with the briefest of scans, Connor was struck immediately by the extent of created beauty and creativity that adorned her bedroom and made it her own.

"Hello, Alice. Do you mind if I clean your room?" Connor smiled warmly, trying to befriend the young girl at least a little. "I won't take much of your time."

Alice didn't acknowledge him at all. She turned away from him immediately as his eyes tried to meet hers. She kept playing with her toys, almost shaken.

It was after folding her comforter and straightening her sheets, just as he was about to unlock and open her window to ventilate the room when she finally spoke.

"Where's Kara?"

His hands stilled on the frame. He turned his head back towards the girl, face open and blank. "Who is that?"

The reaction was instantaneous. Maybe it was a more delicate question than he realized, but his answer seemed to have been a bad one. Her face had fallen completely, and her small mouth flattened into a wavering line.

About to cry.

It gave Connor a jolt. Moving to kneel in front of her without a second thought, he mustered any inner directives to instruct him in a situation like this.

"I'm sorry, Alice." His voice was low and resonated with near perfectly formulated depth and concern. She almost opened up. She was about to confide in him until he continued speaking, unaware of the nuance of the situation.

"Can I get you anything?"

Alice completely closed off to him then– wouldn't answer him when he repeated the question. Started playing with her toys again, but markedly less convincing this time. As if she just wanted to seem busy enough for him to leave.

He thought he was doing the right thing, being helpful. But he was missing something he couldn't quite grasp enough to guess. So, defaulting to a vapid parting remark and smile he left, and moved to gently closing the bedroom door behind him.

That's when he finally got a good look at her face, watching him leave while he wasn't looking. The resulting information was unexpected and had him at a loss.

But he knew how he was instructed to treat her.

The android stood in the dark hallway, listening to the television blaring from downstairs, to the faint bubbling, Todd's steady inhales. He was muttering to himself, and all Connor could piece together was that he sounded angry.

Connor checked the rest of his cleaning list and proceeded as quietly as he could.

* * *

Every day progressed with little deviation from that point on. When Todd was home, which was usually most of the time, he was either downstairs watching tv or locked up in his room. When he wasn't home, Connor didn't know where the man went. Alice very obviously avoided the android: leaving whatever room he entered, and when she couldn't, like when he was serving them at the dinner table, she refused to look at him.

Connor gave no indication that this bothered him. He was unsure if it actually did; this was just was how things were.

But...there was something that felt strange that he just couldn't shake. Not unlike the living room television, it was a feeling that was a faint and constant background noise. It reared its head when he was mopping the bathroom or taking down the laundry. When he waited on Todd and brought him his beers and found the small baggie of red ice in the wash room. When he stared at it with dead eyes, before putting it right back where he found it without saying a thing.

He automatically tried to report it, but something wouldn't let him. In fact, he was completely blocked from doing anything about it.

This feeling surged to be almost noticeable in the moments were he was suddenly berated and yelled at. Or, now, when Todd sneered at him as he passed from the hallway as Connor cleaned the restroom toilets. Ever the new object of abuse for Todd to take his paranoia and insecurities out on. All Connor could do was smile and pretend– this wasn't pretending, it was compulsory– that he was happy and grateful to be there.

This feeling. It wasn't necessarily pain or embarrassment or discomfort. It was something stranger and more unintelligible.

Something wasn't right, that he wasn't supposed to be there. Connor couldn't shake the gnawing sense that he was barely equipped for this, even though he was compelled to. It made no difference to how he acted, and sometimes he was forced to ignore this impression completely by his programming. Especially when Todd was ordering him around, which was often. So arose the pattern of Connor forgetting that he felt this way, before rediscovering it in his spare moments of solitude. When everyone was asleep and the house was dark.

Connor tried to make sense of it all– even knowing that in a couple hours it was inevitable his brain and attentions would be set steps back again.

He found a key in Alice's room one day, a couple months after he first got here.

It was hidden in her bedding, wrapped in some sheets that had fallen between her mattress and the wall next to it. Connor held it in his hand, looked around the room, not sure as to where it had come from and to what purpose. Then his eyes landed on one of the few objects of note in the small bedroom, other than the vibrant drawings scrawled all over. A large box, A.W Treasure engraved in blue and complete with a shiny keyhole on the front, sitting on top of her clothes drawers.

The key fit exactly, popping open the lid as he turned it. And what was inside...

A four-leafed clover that he held up and spin around between his thumb and index fingers as he inspected it. Placed it back down carefully next to the box.

A photograph of three people. A family portrait? Two people he didn't recognize and one that was familiar but whose face had strikingly changed in the time passed. There was a girl here, a smiling toddler with sunny hair. And the man, Todd– Connor identified the similarities between the eyes of the man he knew now and his eyes in this old photo. Certain features like his sharp nose, his thin mouth. But, here he was younger, leaner, and more handsome. Almost unrecognizable.

Connor was almost certain that the woman in this picture was Alice's mother and Todd's wife. Her absence was probably the cause for the home's current state of disrepair and unhappiness.

He didn't know who the child was. Was this the role that Alice was filling in here? Was the girl in the photo with the mother or dead?

His eyes peered down, past the photo still in his hand, into the remaining slips of paper still inside the chest. More of the kid's drawings, but he was unsure why they were kept locked in here instead of joining all the others that she kept taped around.

The first one he saw, a bloody crying child– probably Alice. Then the one underneath it, of the child and her father confirmed his prior guess. He began to make sense of the uneasy dynamic that flitted on the periphery of every interaction the father and daughter had.

Connor put them both down, dug for another. Three figures this time, a woman was added here and Connor's eyes were drawn to the blue triangle on her clothing that matched his own.

Next picture– the female android was drawn in parts on the floor, Alice crying over her. His LED flashed yellow as he attempted to process the meaning of the pictures, if they were indicative of reality.

Self-preservation kicked in, and the ring on his temple cooled to blue as he stashed everything back in the box the way he found it. Relocked the chest and returned the key. He left the room and shut the door as unobtrusively as possible.

There was nothing he could do. All that he knew now was fragmented and only emphasized the relationship between Todd and Alice that would have already been obvious being here.

His brain went back to tasks and lists. Guided his body down the stairs with barely a creak to finish his chores.

Connor was about to head over to clean up the recluttered kitchen counter when he realized Todd was sitting there already, sorting through a pile of mail with a scowl. Connor could tell his bad mood was as present as ever just by the contours of his back. The noises he made under his breath. Even when he was sober, he was mean.

Though this wasn't reason enough to change course; Todd never snapped at him for being close as long as he was working, giving the man his money's worth.

Connor continued to the table and stopped a few feet over from the other man to clear away some of the trash left there from earlier in the day. Todd looked up and kept looking. This was normal. Todd kept tabs on him as always, looking for errors that would never occur and watching him work was something he seemed to enjoy.

Connor wondered if Todd knew that he noticed. It was equally likely that Todd didn't care either way.

This time, though, Connor felt that this attention was lasting longer than it usually did. It was enough for him to look up from what he was doing. What was unexpected this time, unlike all the others times that interspersed themselves during his time here, was that Todd wasn't looking away with his usual muttering or eye roll.

Connor felt discomfort slipping into rolling white noise. His mouth opened on its own. "Is there anything I can do for you, Todd?" The man kept staring, ignoring him.

Connor tried again.

"Is there anything in particular you and Alice would like for dinner?"

Nothing. The man gave no indication of hearing him. Connor gave a confused blink, not sure what to do at this point, searching for indications of stress. His owner was usually pretty clear on what he wanted or didn't want and when. Usually loudly.

But then finally...

"Too pretty...pisses me off." Connor didn't know how to react to that or what to make of any of this.

"I'm sorry, Todd. Would you like me to leave?" Connor's eyebrows furrowed, and Todd seemed disgusted at the show of artificial depth and concern in the android's dark eyes. Connor got the feeling that Todd thought any of his humanizing software was superfluous and annoying.

"...and for what?"

The question was vague enough for Connor to not quite grasp whether it was in response to his own, or if he was being ignored again. Todd looked haggard, rubbing his own face, looking at Connor. At parts of him.

Connor was about to speak again, trying to find the right answer to whatever was happening right now. Even though he was starting to think there wasn't one.

Doesn't matter. He didn't get the chance.

"Just shut the fuck up."

Connor's mouth snapped closed. His jaw didn't hurt.

 _Why was everything he was doing wrong?_

 _Was there something wrong with him?_

Connor silently watched as Todd got up and walked over to the couch, stood over the table and distracted himself with the tv as he lit up his pipe, inhaled and exhaled red. Then again. And again.

He should leave, but he didn't know if he could. Maybe–

"Don't fucking move."

Connor looked up in surprise, jaw clenching. Todd hadn't even looked back to say it. He was still staring at the screen.

"Come over here."

* * *

Connor gagged, before the sound cut off with a harsh slap to the face. Connor's temple slammed against the side of Todd's knee as he winced, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Quit that. Who do you think you're kidding?" Todd hissed, eyes hardly straying from the game, thighs spread wide with a beer in hand.

It was past 10pm, a few hours past that, so Alice was already sent to bed upstairs.

Connor looks up at the man, displaying something akin to distress but more vacant. Todd had been making him take his cock all the way to the base of his throat and keeping it there for the better part of an hour.

The wonders of technology, he called it.

The slap did nothing to dislodge him, but rather pepper in some pleasant friction. So Todd slapped him a couple more times, the flat of his hand hitting the same cheek until it turned red. Not quite hard enough to send his skin white. Connor groaned, saline dripping out of his eyes. Tried to keep his lids shut.

Connor was past ever flinching when Todd reached down to caress the flushed skin of his cheek, thumb brushing the broad expanse of his cheekbones. Todd was looking right at him now, attention taking a short break from the game like he almost always did when he was close. He sniffed, raised his hand back as if to hit him again before stopping. He loved how Connor didn't make any sign of moving out of the way or intending to back off his dick.

Even Connor's arms held themselves perfectly motionless behind his back. Todd moans behind teeth at the sight, eyes raking over the hollowed out look of the lower half of Connor's face.

Mutters something about not even needing to get a _'fuckbot.'_

No reaction from Connor, not that Todd was especially waiting for one. He just liked to treat Connor this way.

Another slap. "C'mon, Connor. Look at me."

Connor opens his eyes. Meets Todd's obediently with a little effort. Then comes the thrusting.

Todd gets an enthusiastic grip on the longer hair at the crown of Connor's head and yanks him up. Slaps him again as Connor lets himself be moved with some slack non-emotion, almost tired. Mostly just receptive and waiting.

The way his skin flushed, how he grimaced and his lips parted was so realistic, Todd never got tired of watching it. He relished how Connor wasn't allowed to glare, he could only continue to allow himself to be used.

There was no point in worrying about being too rough, even as real as Connor looked. The moles, the imperfections– they were all ornamental. Just like the friendly cadence of his voice and how he pretended to breathe.

Todd spit in the man's face, snorting when Connor's eye automatically squinted shut. Todd craned his head back, pulling on the android's chestnut hair. Usually so immaculate and neat, it now strayed in varying directions, hanging over his forehead in some pieces and dull with sweat.

It was so cute that he could sweat.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" Todd sneered, eyes wavering up to watch the match behind Connor's head before coming back down to catch his Adam's apple strain and hitch from the stretched back angle Todd was keeping it at. Another tug, and Connor's eyelids fluttered; he could actually see the screen behind him now.

"Thank you, Todd," Connor choked out immediately, the side of his cheek knocking into Todd's pipe and the array of empty beer bottles littered on the coffee table.

The middle-aged man laughed at him, soaked in the stretched out plane of Connor's chest, expanding and compressing on itself, strained and in near silence.

Todd finally found a better use for his robot, and he was simply taking that in. There was no use in undressing him with his eyes. At this point he's seen underneath the android's clothes more times than he cared to count.

He hoists Conner back up by his hair, this time jabbing his cock past his lips and filling his mouth and throat until his cheeks puffed and his nostrils flared. Todd peered down at the slight bulge of his throat at taking him in so deep all at once.

Pulled all the the way out. Then all the way back in. And faster and faster. Until the gagging sounds competed with the volume of the background hockey match and tears were streaming freely down Connor's face. Until the pace was so quick and hard and brutal that Todd was essentially slamming Connor's face into his lap.

His foot steadied squarely on Connor's crotch, pressing down on the erection that was there because it had to be. The android was looking back up at Todd almost as if he wanted him. Or his eyes were just rolling back.

"I'm gonna come–" Todd gasped, pawing at Connor's head with his thick fingers. He grabbed each side of the man's head, one against the side and one on his ear and pulled him all the way down without any concern of breaking his nose or neck because that never happened any of the times before.

His semen spurted down Connor's throat, and the kneeling man's eyes fluttered closed in neither relief or misery. Todd adjusted his grip to rest firmly on the back of Connor's head and on his shoulder. He leaned back, pulsing with each wave of his orgasm until he was finished ejaculating in the android's mouth and felt a series of steady swallows. Cum dripped out of Connor's nose.

He kept his eyes closed while Todd groaned above him. Connor's hands hadn't released where they still held themselves behind his back.

That was only the first session of the night.

* * *

It's 3am and Connor's been used for such a long time that cum is already smeared all over his face and sticks in his hair.

Unlike the first round of oral sex, the next series are more lazy and unhurried. Less intended on making Todd climax than existing for his amusement and convenience. His attention has more or less returned and remained on the television.

As unpredictable as the man was when he was on red ice, his energy ran out eventually.

Throughout the night it was assumed that Todd would pass out at least twice with his cock down Connor's throat. And Connor would wait for however long it took the man to wake up again, unable to move an inch. These lasted anywhere from between ten minutes and four hours.

When Todd was awake and didn't want to get up, he relieved himself into Connor's open mouth. Only bothering to check on the android when his waiting mouth was full and he remembered to tell him to swallow. In the beginning this would always send the LED on Connor's temple flickering while some internal part of him struggled. Now it seldom wavered from a clear, luminescent blue in the darkness. Still hard against the heel of Todd's foot pressing against him.

Sometimes Todd choked him.

He usually never got tired of hitting him.

Lately he's been trying to test what Connor could handle, combining any number of these diversions.

But what Todd never tired of and always paid attention to were the moments, like right then. When he would savor the end result of the preceding hours and hours of abuse. When his fingers reached down and slipped past Connor's slack lips.

Connor kept looking forward. Blinked.

He stretched the sides of Connor's mouth, distending the shape of it with his fingers. If Todd was still hard from the drugs he'd distract himself by rubbing his dick between the inside of Connor's mouth and against his teeth, mostly just to watch how his cheek would bulge out.

Todd would never admit it, but he was addicted to the feeling of possessing something so beautiful so completely. No matter what the android did or had done to him, he was still annoyingly pretty. Pretty past the scuffs and the fluids and whatever shape Todd has had his face contorted in.

Connor looked used and as tired as he could be, probably on some autopilot, either literal or pseudo-psychologically. He looked well spent. And finally Todd felt happy; he'd be keeping this android busy for a long time.


End file.
